


Lovesong (A Collection)

by justafeeling



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justafeeling/pseuds/justafeeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>List includes many one shots.</p><p>1. Just a Feeling<br/>2. Pieces of You I Kept<br/>3. Pretend Tonight<br/>4. Didn't We?<br/>5. Almost Lover<br/>6. Again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just a Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> "However far away I will always love you  
> However long I stay I will always love you  
> Whatever words I say I will always love you  
> I will always love you"
> 
> \--Lovesong by Adele

**Just a Feeling**

For OP and Charlotte

//

2:36 am

Don’t ignore this. You have to read it. http://zuckonit.livejournal.com/1574.html

2:37 am

Stop texting me.

2:38 am

I will if you go to the link and read what’s written first.

2:39 am

You’ve got some nerve, Mark.

2:40 am

It’d be simpler if you just do what I told you.

2:41 am

Like old times, right? Yeah, that worked out so well for me.

2:42 am

Please.

//

From inside of the hotel room, Eduardo pauses with his hands positioned over the keyboard of his phone. Mark’s not the kind of person to say that word to anyone so Eduardo tells himself that’s the reason he clicks on the link even though Eduardo has not been on LiveJournal for a couple of years and yet the place still looks familiar but with some obvious new features. The address takes him to a locked journal entry, Mark’s and the date is fresh from a couple of minutes go. Eduardo wonders what Mark has to say that he had to beg Eduardo to look over it. What more is there?

 

You are viewing zuckonit’s livejournal

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September 20, 2009 at 2:35 am

 

I think I had your heart around my graceless hands back at Harvard and it was soft and breakable, one hard enough squeeze from me and everything might have been over. Isn’t that what happened with us? I didn’t even understand how breakable it was until after. Would you believe me when I say I really didn’t understand? I didn’t understand the look in your brown eyes when you found out your shares were diluted. I couldn’t deal with your expression so I didn’t look at you directly. I was afraid to take in what I’d find. And when you were furious and shouting accusations, my brain was still trying to process things. It wasn’t until you walked away that I kept staring at your retreating back.

 

If this is the last time you’ll hear from me, than maybe I should finally give away all my secrets. And if nothing good will come from this, I’d know that I said everything I needed too. You’d know, maybe not the way I’d want to but you would have the information.

 

You were my best friend. Even after what we went through, you still are the best I ever had. No one can take your place. There’s not gonna be anyone after you. I know that part deep within my gut.

 

I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not going to. I wouldn’t mean it and you would know I wouldn’t. You’re not going to want to read this next part, but I wouldn’t change what I did to you. I made the best decision for Facebook. I still stand by it, but I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to do that, Wardo. You meant something to me. You were important. You still are in a lot of ways, but I’m not going to let myself hope for a reconciliation. Sometimes, I wish we could travel to the beginning when we first met at that frat party. Things were simpler back then. I must admit that I didn’t make thing easier. We both made mistakes, and now there’s nothing left to save.

 

I’m tired of where I’m at. I bet you are too.

 

I have one more thing to ask you. Meet me in the offices, before signing the nondisclosure forms.

 

//

 

2:47 am

Why should I?

2:48 am

This might be the last time we talk.

2:53 am

Fine.

 

//

 

“Okay, I came here. What was so important?” Eduardo asks, curious, but his voice and face is still guarded and even then, he can’t quite keep the quick look of hurt towards Mark off his expression. It’s just the two of them. They’re the only ones left in this particular room for now. It’s early in the morning.

 

Mark looks at Eduardo steadily, hands digging deep inside his jacket, out of nerves. Eduardo has never seen Mark as frayed and anxious as he is now with visible circles underneath his usually controlled eyes. This time though, Eduardo doesn’t see pretension; he perceives remorse in those steel blue eyes which takes Eduardo by surprise. Mark isn’t one for apologies. Somehow, Eduardo thinks Mark doesn’t look right without his customary gray, GAP hoodie, and Adidas flip flops. He’s actually wearing a nice dressed shirt and tie that someone probably made him wear unless Mark’s changed that much since Eduardo knew him. He doubts it.

 

Mark opens his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to be able to get his words out. His face twist to annoyance at himself and lets out a frustrated sigh escape. He still appears exhausted; maybe even pass his break pointing. By now, if they were back at Harvard, Eduardo would have coerced Mark into filling his stomach with some amount of food and grabbed his wrist and steered him into his room so that Mark could catch up on all the hours of stable sleep he’d missed thanks to his coding tears.

 

Mark determinedly looks at point near the left of Eduardo’s face. “I know you'll think this is crazy, but all I want to do is hold you, and I think that if you'll let me do that, just for a few seconds, I can walk away, and never speak to you again.”

 

“Wow,” Eduardo utters in disbelief, amazement coloring his features, eye brows raised. “I don’t know what to say. I never expected you to feel that way.”

 

Mark keeps his eyes on the floor now. His shoulders are hunched forward, and his posture is slouching down. He appears to want to disappear or match the ground itself, and it makes Eduardo want to reach out and reassure Mark that things are going to be all right, but the rational side of Eduardo doesn’t know if what he wants to do will be any good. Reality isn’t as forgiving and Mark wasn’t being a good friend when he made that decision to cut him out of their company. It hurts to just think about the betrayal and he becomes bitter and furious when his thoughts go that route. But still, it’s Mark and Eduardo can never deny him anything. He blames his weak heart. His father used to reprimand him for having one. He said that kind of being had no place in the business world, check your emotions at the door. Be cold and impersonal, two things that Eduardo has never been good at. He’s not his father’s son, not the model heir that his father dreamed of. Eduardo hates that his father turned out to be right about this.

 

And yet his heart is telling him to hold Mark, so he does because he’s wanted to before, he wants to now and everything is betraying him including his body, especially his chest. He gives in again and it feels good, right and wrong too. Maybe they could have been something in another life. Eduardo doesn’t know, but he and Mark can’t be anything now. Mark’s made that entirely clear with his actions. Eduardo can’t get over what he did and they could never work if Eduardo can’t get past this side of Mark.

 

“I loved you,” he whispers softly in Mark’s ear, almost inaudible, like a confession that wasn’t meant to be heard. Mark shivers.

 

Both are savoring the warmth and closeness if only for that moment, even when all they had was slipping away in front of them, the final piece awaiting in the haven. They were two people who were so immersed in each other’s lives for the longest time, but this time they had to travel in different directions, a part from each other, for what seemed to be for good. If it’s for the best, Eduardo doesn’t understand the world. He can’t be in it; he’s naïve. Eduardo clutches his arms tighter around Mark, committing to memory the smell of the detergent he uses.

 

When he begins to pull away, Mark redoubles his efforts to keep Eduardo where he is.

 

“You belong here with me. I was wrong, okay? Don’t leave. Stay. I need you,” Mark says desperately.

“I read your blog. I know you meant what you wrote, but I can’t, not with you.”

“No, Wardo,” Mark shakes his head from his place near Eduardo’s neck. "Don't. I can be better," Mark lets out a hopeful promise, intensely securing his fingers over Eduardo's neat, pressed shirt. Mark doesn't usually let his emotions dominate but they have.

And for the barest breath, Eduardo's resolve falters before he has to force his mouth to say aloud, “Yes, Mark. We have to end this.”

“No, we don’t. For as long as I’ve known you, you were always optimistic about life and I know you care about me, about us. How can you give up on this?” Mark’s blue eyes are burning to Eduardo’s own.

“Because it hurts," Eduardo fiercely shoots back. "You hurt me," he's shaking his head too," I don’t know how to get over that." He's tearing up, "I can’t think or look at you the same way. What you did changes everything and I wish I could go back, but we can’t. We have to move forward. I have to move on.”

The last few sentences are spoken with some measure of conviction and it makes Mark afraid that Eduardo might mean it. He could truly move on from Mark. And Mark's dimly aware of the flare in his chest from hearing that particular concept. His logical mind has to solve this situation like warm and familiar code: in a series of numbers and the combinations of equations would have to be in perfect, working order if they want to be successful. They are far from that line though.

 

“Without me?” Mark settles for in a small voice.

Eduardo nods and Mark feels the motion too. “Without you,” his voice cracks at the end when he says the word you.

“I thought one hug would be enough, but it’s not. I want more and I know I destroyed us. It can’t be fixed, but I wish I could.”

“I know,” Eduardo says, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Wardo?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't forget about me."

And Eduardo feels like the very air from his lungs have gone. He takes several deep breaths before responding, tone constricting in grief, "I won't," it's bittersweet similar to the color of copper, a mixture of red and orange. Mark tastes of semisweet chocolates, such sweet anguish and joy mixed in with the unforgettable pain.

 

Eduardo lets Mark physically go with difficulty.

 

//

 

They see each other again in the deposition room across a wide expanse of tables where all their lawyers are present. Mark settles and they both sign the necessary papers. The black ink remains a permanent reminder of what they signed away: first, Eduardo for unknowingly signing his death certificate (Mark for letting him), second, the nondisclosure forms for being symbolic of their friendship history how it began so promising, how they shared an idea that turned out to be separate visions, not the same one. Mark won. Now, Eduardo can’t talk about it. He doesn’t want to do that anyway.

 

//

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November 10, 2009 at 2:12 am

 

I loved you too.

//

He still hasn’t completely let Mark go.


	2. Pieces of You I Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is sentimental. It just doesn't matter any more.

Mark is sentimental. It just doesn't matter any more, which is probably why after a tough day at the office, he reaches for his cell, dialing the familiar number of his voicemail. He rarely does this, but sometimes, he just needs to hear one particular voice. Mark won't admit it though.

You have 12 saved messages.

Saved message  
“Please pick up your cell. I know that you saw the ringing. Why aren’t you picking up? I have to leave this message. Otherwise, it’ll be like I was never here.”

\--  
It always starts the same: Eduardo’s voice tired and desperate, demanding to know why he isn’t returning his calls.  
Saved message

“Come on. Answer. I was angry, all right? I was furious actually, but we can’t end like this. I was just hurt that I couldn’t see straight. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry before and I reacted. I’m sorry about your laptop. I’ll get you a new one. You’d like that. Pick up.”

\--  
He explains his side and Mark listens. Time does that to some, making them truly hears things that are said the way they were meant to be heard. Life would be simple if in that moment, Mark understood what Eduardo felt.

Saved message

“We said things that we didn’t mean. People do that, but they also make up.”  
\--  
There’s more persuasion and bargaining on Eduardo’s end, but Mark’s still silently furious, nothing to show for it except the angry clacking of his fingers with his computer opened in front of him. His best friend and CFO failed to deliver big investors. He failed to be there when Mark had repeatedly asked him to come to California. Their company was located in Palo Alto. He told Wardo, ‘I want—want no, I need you.’ Eduardo kept ignoring his calls and texts, and it became apparent that their vision for Facebook greatly differed from one another’s.

Wardo didn’t understand the main reason of why Mark built Facebook. It wasn’t about getting laid or saying, fuck you to every Harvard Final Club in existence. His social network would change the world, society as they knew it. Facebook would connect people, and Sean saw some of that potential, the material gain from it anyway.

Wardo only saw the opportunity to finally make his father proud. When Mark really considers it, who used who?

 

Saved message

“You know the first time that I met you I couldn’t get over how brilliant you were? Like I knew, you’d changed the world and it’s weird saying that because eventually we became best friends but I thought it. Your blue eyes were sharp and they focused on me. That’s what I remember.”  
\--  
He remembers ridiculous dark hair and gentle, brown eyes, of wanting to know this person’s name. He didn’t seem real and Mark couldn’t shake him out of his interest. It was absurd.

Saved message

“Your message set up keeps cutting me off. It sucks. Didn’t I tell you to reset that up months ago? What if someone needs that space, like your poor mother? And you still haven’t. Typical. You should do that.”

Saved message

“It’s me. Maybe I’ve finally run out of words. If you were here, you probably wouldn’t believe that. Usually, we both know I never run out of things to say. I have to make conversation or sometimes I can’t resist filling the silences. You code.”

Saved message

“All those times the four of us: you, me, Dustin, and Chris watched movies and played video games in Kirkland, was probably the first time that I felt like I belonged. You guys were like my family.

You were different though. In another way, I wanted to keep you.”  
\--  
Mark thinks he wouldn’t have argued with the last statement.

Saved message

“When I felt us slipping, I obsessed over discovering the exact point where we became distant, like finding the point would make a difference. I know we didn’t see to eye to eye on Facebook, but I was doing the best I could. You have to know that.”  
\--  
He believes Eduardo’s words, but frankly wishes that they were enough.

Saved message

“That day that I was in the office, you looked back at me with your dimples showing, you said, ‘But you have to come back for the party Thiel’s going to throw us, when we hit a million members.’ Mark, I wouldn’t have missed it. And what did you do?”

The surprise and the shock of Eduardo’s violent anger—Mark couldn’t process the scene at the time. He had to defend himself against his accusations. He was justified and yet his own arguments appeared weak aloud.

Mark wanted to viciously throw that question back at Eduardo’s face: And what did you do?

Eduardo froze the accounts and jeopardized Facebook’s future. Mark couldn’t have that even if it meant cutting out Wardo’s shares and place in the company. Wardo’s behavior proved that he didn’t care about Mark. He didn’t realize how important Facebook was, how important it could be. He threw the first shot. Mark only finished the score.

Saved message

“I know it’d be easy to say that I hate you now, but I can’t even bring myself to feel that. I want to hold on to the anger and the betrayal so badly, lash out like I did with the laptop smashing, but then where will that leave me?

“I think, Mark, I might’ve been in love with you. You’re an idiot, but I’m the biggest one of all.”

\--  
Mark didn’t hate Wardo either. He wouldn’t have been able to.

Saved message

“Call me back. I know we can work through this. I don’t care about the dilutions. They aren’t important as making us all right. You’re my best friend, my only true friend. I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything, please.”

Saved message

“Mark.”  
End of messages  
\--

Abruptly, other pressing emotions threaten to dominate Mark’s brain despite his previous, careful control. There’s a tension in his chest, an enormous ache spreading over his body and feelings he tried not to experience overwhelm him. It is not until his sight is blurry and the strength of ignoring the loss of someone he loved becomes too great that he senses the presence of tears trailing from his face. He touches the tear drops with his fingertips and somehow, the act causes everything to be real.

He’s twenty three and the year is 2007. Mark reasons, ‘I did what was necessary, but that didn’t mean it didn’t kill me along the way. All I have left of you are your messages and our tainted memories.’

He clutches the cell tighter in his right hand, feeling the cool metal, but wanting to touch something—no, someone else that has long gone.

Wardo…


	3. Pretend Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mature Mark reflects on what went wrong in one important friendship of his.

I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I’ll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I’ll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky. That’s not going to happen. I understand now that you’re the only I could ever want.

With you, I always had a hard time understanding how you could project your feelings out to people. It wasn’t easy for me to do that. Sometimes, I didn’t know how and you did. People could tell when you were happy or upset and you could read people back. It was effortless for you to be charming and to win over friends. I think I envied your ability to get along with people so well while I came across as an asshole to almost everyone else I met.

But no matter how special you are, I know you’re not going to forgive me for this.

Yet you freely stayed for a long time, tolerating my brand of quick wit and long silences in our conversations, maybe I should have been less of an asshole, considered others’ feelings or whatever. Though, I can’t say I fully regret screwing you over Facebook since Facebook was my pure creation alone. It was my creative genius that invented this site. A site that revolutionized how everyone relates to other people, and for that, I don’t regret it.

If it wasn’t for the look I that saw, I would have felt vindicated for setting you up, but your face held such tempestuous rage and hurt. Something in me felt grief, and strangely hurt too. You could have ruined everything. I guess I was hurt that you froze the account to get my attention. Why couldn’t you just tell me? Maybe I wouldn’t have listened but you didn’t even try. That day I could sense that this was the final break in our friendship. The likelihood that we would ever return to our carefree Harvard days was over. We wouldn’t be drinking beers, playing video games, have late night movie marathons, and cram together for study sessions on exams.

You gave me everything, all I that asked for, what I demanded of you. You gave in every single time with hesitation, still voicing your concerns, always trying to appeal to my voice of reason which I never had a lot of to begin with if it conflicted with achieving what I wanted. I’m certain you knew that, but you went along with my plans anyway because you were my friend.

It’s way too late to say, “I’m sorry, Wardo.” If I appreciated you, who knows where could we be now? Would you have left me anyway? I wish I hadn’t treated you like some kind of personal ATM: an object that I manipulated so that I could get further along my plans for recognition and power. Ironically, it’s now I learn that money does not bring happiness. It doesn’t appear to be worth it in the end because you’re out of my life, and I foolishly thought business was just that: business. That you wouldn’t take it as personally as you did. I was wrong.

And while I display a blank face most of the time, inside, my mind is chaotic. Like a piece of code that wants to be written, I can’t manage to remember the complete sequence. Even though it’s on the brink of my memory, I can’t recall the information. I fail to retrieve the file like a computer that runs an empty search. My stomach unconsciously tightens and I’m desperate for forgiveness. A forgiveness which I know I’ll never get. So I’ll reminisce of a time not too far, never within my grasp, but the closest thing to you I’ll have: your ecstatic grin, those gangly limbs, your thin build, that dark hair, your honest brown eyes, and your affectionate nature. The last trait was always a little too touchy-feely for my tastes, but you were one of the few that I let near me like this. Maybe when your face was several feet next to mine I couldn’t breathe for a different reason other liking my personal space. I’ll even miss that part, and I didn’t think I would in the first place since the thought was ridiculous. It’s not true anymore. It never was.

Fuck, I really need you now. I miss out everything about you, Wardo.


	4. Didn't We?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a prompt that called for a Singer!Wardo, these are lyrics to a song I think Wardo would write about.

Title: “Didn’t We?”

 

Verse 1

You stumbled into my life  
A mass of formed curls and an unbelievable, sharp wit  
With your smirk in place   
I knew I had been lost to you then

Pre-Chorus

Cause from the start  
I gave everything so willingly  
And you took the best of me  
While you didn’t have to say anything,   
I offered and all you did was take

Chorus

Didn’t I mean something to you?  
I want to ask and I never thought I had to  
Cause even when you weren’t looking at me   
I’d hoped that we would be together like this  
Didn’t we have that kind of friendship?  
Didn’t we?  
Didn’t we?

Verse 2

And I could relay all the reasons why I kept holding on,  
But I wouldn’t know how to explain   
It doesn’t even make sense any more   
You didn’t always did

Pre-Chorus

Cause from the start  
I gave everything so willingly  
And you took the best of me  
While you didn’t have to say anything,   
I offered and all you did was take

Chorus

Didn’t I mean something to you?  
I want to ask and I never thought I had to  
Cause even when you weren’t looking at me   
I’d hoped that we would be together like this  
Didn’t we have that kind of friendship?  
Didn’t we?  
Didn’t we?

Bridge

I should stop, I should scream, but what good does that do?  
Nothing, nothing will be the same to how it was  
The past constantly strikes my soul  
And no matter what, I know you hold the ugly breaks

I tried and I wish I could say the same for you…

Chorus

Did I mean anything to you?  
Knowing the answer won’t ease my pain  
I want to ask but the thought is useless now  
Cause even when you were looking at me  
I’d hoped that we would stay exactly where we were  
But we can’t go back  
Why does my mind keep asking:  
Didn’t we have that kind of relationship?  
Didn’t we?  
Didn’t we?

Didn’t we? (No, no, I guess we were never)  
Didn’t we? (We weren’t, we weren’t)

Didn’t we…


	5. Almost Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eduardo drunk dials Mark and deals with the events of the dilution.

It was exactly several hours since Eduardo Saverin had signed a non-disclosure agreement with Mark Zuckerberg, thus ending their drawn out deposition. What should have been a victory instead, made him feel drained and hollow. His face was lined with weariness, bags underneath his eyes. While years have passed since he has felt anywhere near this emotional, he’s not surprised to find at all that Mark is only making him feel things he thought he had long forgotten and had tried to bury. It’s viciously ironic in the sickest sense. Of course he wouldn’t forget. Mark was Mark. It was only a few years ago when he startlingly fell in love with him. And all those times late at night, he’d stay up while wondering how he ever managed to do such a stupid thing.

And the answer came in unexpected ways, he would remember the first time he met Mark, in Composition II where he sat in front because all the other seats were taken. The class was about to begin. The professor barely introduced herself as Professor Fife when a curly hair kid in worn jeans and a hoodie, wearing flips flops, despite the harsh East Coast winter weather outside, wrenched the door open. He headed to the front where there were some seats available and chose a seat directly next to him. Eduardo didn’t know it then, but the very next second sealed his inevitable fate. The kid spoke quietly, “Mark,” his eyes weren’t even meeting his. Eduardo was confused for a moment before he said, “Eduardo Saverin.” Minutes ticked by, while their professor explained what was expected of them and outlined the syllabus that they were going to follow all semester. ‘Same old boring shit, ‘he thought when Mark finally met his gaze, and he saw an ocean of cobalt blue, initially surrounded by distance. But upon closer inspection, he could distinguish stormy shores, such conflicts surrounding them before he blinked and his eyes were vacant. ‘Oh, man,’ he subconsciously echoed.

That was the moment he was pulled in by his invisible magnetism, like gravity. It turns out Eduardo was a sucker for vulnerable looking, practically anti-social guys because Mark was definitely all the above. Eduardo couldn’t even explain it to himself. After their official introduction, he knew he wanted to be Mark’s best friend. He had to take care of him because Mark wasn’t able to, like stock his dorm refrigerator with groceries because all Mark, Dustin or Chris had were snacks that weren’t healthy in the long run, and Eduardo would practically drag him to sleep if he happened to be in their dorm studying some nights. Mark always did look a little underfed with massive bags under his eyes, wearing the same clothes he had from class. Courtesy of the careless sacrifices he made from coding ungodly hours which extended straight into days. Oddly, Mark didn’t seem to mind as much as he thought he would because who wants another mom? It was only because he cared. Maybe Mark even slightly understood his actions for he only looked exasperated and shrugged as if to say, ‘if you must’ and continued coding while he was wired in.

With them, there was usually a sense of almost tangible ease. Eduardo would fill most of their conversations with his rambling. He talked about his business classes and what he hoped to become once they graduated. Mark would occasionally nod, but Eduardo could tell his mind was million miles away, probably thinking about something more important. But it was okay, he was okay with that. Mark wasn’t a great conversationalist. He was brilliant, yes. His mind was really creative and his wit was sharp, often times bordering on condescension. Some people might not have understood him, but he found his sarcastic barbs and brutal truths funny. There were times when it got a bit much, but Eduardo brushed off it as Mark being himself.

So when Mark insisted they talk outside, away from AEPi Caribbean Night, while the temperatures were below freezing, he agreed. He would have done anything for Mark. This moment marked a change in their relationship. Mark would lay out his plans for a site that connected people to each other, something like Myspace or Friendster, but bigger. It would be revolutionary. And what became memorable to him is how Mark’s blue eyes lit up. They were passionate about this project and the idea had a lot of potential. He was on board before he really considered anything. Mark was his best friend. Of course, he would lend him some money to start it up. What kind of best friend was he if he didn’t?

But oh, how quickly things fell apart.

He vividly recalled feeling wild shock and disbelief, followed by numbness, and then blinding, uncontrollable rage. It was ugly, surging through his entire body. He was shaking with its power. It reached his limbs and he whipped his head around to stare at Mark and before he was aware of what he was doing, his legs stride towards the glass doors, pushes them wide open and aims his steps at his target.

He yelled, “Mark! Mark!!”

He sees Sean Parker leaning on a cubicle, casually sipping coffee who says, “He’s wired in.” How insufferable.

“Is he?” he utters taken a-back.

With unidentifiable fury, Eduardo grabs Mark’s Apple laptop, raises it above his head and slams it with enough strength to shatter it. It’s probably beyond repair now. Good, he thinks. Their friendship might be approaching the same result. So he roars, “How ‘bout now? Are you still wired in?”

And he desperately wants this be some kind of alternate universe; no matter how much of a jerk Mark could be, surely he wouldn’t do this? ‘Tell me I’m wrong. Prove to me that I’m wrong,’ he wordlessly begs.

But no, he said, “You’re gonna blame me when you were the business head of the company, and you made a bad business deal with your own company?”

Eduardo states, “You better lawyer up, asshole, ‘cause I’m not coming for 30 percent. I’m coming after everything!” and he leaves the offices.

And later, he stayed true to his word and sued Mark.

Which brings him here, inside his apartment; he’s nursing a beer in his modest living room, where the furniture consists of a black leather couch beside a comfy armchair. In the center of the room, a flat screen stood. He’s quickly drunk after finishing a couple of bottles. In his haze, he belatedly recognizes the brand is the same one they had back at Harvard the day he wrote the algorithm that helped create FaceMash, and then somehow he’s hit with an extreme case of nostalgia and an all too familiar longing. His vision’s blurring the edges and his mind is lightheaded. He sluggishly grabs his phone from the pocket and dials a number he knew by heart.

“Why are you calling me? We just settled. I don’t think we’re even supposed to be talking to each other.”  
“Mark…” he slurs.  
“Wardo, are you drunk?”  
“No, I’m not, really.”  
“Sure, you aren’t. The time that it takes you to answer back to someone else is the appropriate amount.”  
“Shush, I-“  
“You what, Wardo?”

He wasn’t consciously aware of it the first time, but he takes notice the second time Mark uses his old nickname. Abruptly, he feels a flash of anger directed at Mark. “No, don’t. Don’t call me Wardo. You lost that right.”

Pause. “Then why are you calling me?”  
“I, I… I’m so mad at you,” Eduardo confesses.  
“I got that when you slammed my laptop on the desk.”  
“Right. I was angry that day, but I was also very hurt and confused more than anything. I don’t get it,” Eduardo is rubbing his hands on his face, “Why did you cut me out of a company I helped make? I thought we were in this together. ”  
“It was just business. You wanted ads and I said ads weren’t cool. You weren’t involved enough. You should have been in Palo Alto with us where everything was happening. I said I needed you there.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t get it all…” Eduardo keeps repeating.

“What don’t I get?” and he hears Mark’s voice is laced with curiosity and no small amount of frustration. Mark always has to figures things out, to make them make sense and what Eduardo has just said does not make sense to him at all.  
Eduardo breathes, “The lawsuit wasn't about money for me. It never was. I was in love with you! And you tore me a part, like I didn’t matter and you didn’t care about me. How did this happen? I wish I never met y-you—“his voice cracks and it’s obvious that he’s close to sobbing.

He chokes, “That day just repeats itself. I was so happy, thinking everything was fine, and then it’s like you indifferently pulled the rug under. It felt surreal. I was broken. I’m still broken, and I hate myself. You have no idea—  
Mark hears more tearful notes in the background. “Why couldn’t you just say that you were sorry, huh? Why couldn’t you think of someone else’s feelings? That you affected me? Why didn’t you ever notice that I always stood by you? Why didn’t that mean something? I just want to keep asking why—

Eduardo continues with more incoherent sounds of anguish, “Do you want to know what the absolute worst part is?” his volume lowers to a mere whisper.

Mark doesn’t say anything.

Eduardo bitterly laughs, “Even going through this, it hasn’t taught me anything. I desperately want to say I hate you and maybe I even really do now, but I know a piece of me still fucking loves you.”

Mark can’t, doesn’t know what to say. It’s completely messed up yet it’s the truth, Eduardo is the mess he made, the person that he has damaged the most probably, but he stands by what he did. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he can fix his mistake.

Eduardo doesn’t say anything else either. It’s overwhelming dealing with this and now he’s just feels exhausted enough to escape to the sweet oblivion of sleep so he asserts one last thing, “Goodbye, Mark,” and ends the call. Eduardo blankly stares at the cell in his right hand. He clicks on ‘contacts’ and deletes the name ‘Mark Zuckerberg’ from the list. A new window pops up, ‘are you sure you want to delete?’ it says. ‘Yes,’ he stabs. He’s said everything he needed to say. Eduardo’s still messed up but he doesn’t need Mark anymore. At least, one day that line might even become true. Right now he knows it’s a step in the right direction and that’s all anyone can ask of him, especially for someone who just got their heartbroken and trust taken advantage of. He smiles sleepily and then proceeds to black out. He’s not fine, not yet but hopefully someday soon, he will be.


	6. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolute blame isn't always the truth.

Most days he’s fine, happy even.

He lives in Singapore, where the city is boisterous and bright and at its heart, filled with ancient traditions and constant activity. The culture is completely different than what he was used to in America.

It’s a good thing.

He works as a successful business investor, funding start-up companies, for apps like Denso and Huntsville. He likes his work. It gives him challenge and purpose.

He has work friends, contacts that he’s in touch with. They usually go out for drinks from time to time if he’s up for it.

He talks to his mae over the phone two times a week and he’s learned to keep cold politeness with his pa on rare occasions that they do speak. He has long accepted his pa’s disappointment in who is and given up in trying to please him.

He has his favorite hobbies. He loves the weather, analyzing and tracking the changes on charts he gets his eager hands on, keeps being amazed at how intricate and unpredictable the patterns are. He’s also started lightly running every morning; feeling relaxed moving his muscles and having the sun warms his skin.

He’s happy. He likes to believe that. Happiness is a state of being and he has the essential things needed to be happy.

He’s doing alright.

Sometimes, he gets passing thoughts when he’s using his laptop, seeing the headlines of Facebook on internet articles. Then, he’s quickly nostalgic about his Harvard days and beneath his eyelids, he remembers a sharp mind, steel blue eyes, a hunched gait and the quiet, concise taps of a keyboard in the background.

If he allows himself to dwell, there’s a persistent ache that’s attached to his musings. His chest caves in regret on how their friendship ended. Things between Mark and him weren’t supposed to go that way.

It took him a while but once he got over the deep hurt and the paralyzing anger, he saw how his behaviors were poor as well, finally realized his part in the blame. It wasn’t fair of him to think Mark was all at fault.

He wishes he could fix things.

The thought drives him to accept a Facebook invitation to one of its monthly meetings. For years, every time the mailed arrived, the reminder went ignored and buried within the drawers of his cabinet. In most cases, he chose to send a proxy to attend the meetings in his place, not wanting to deal with past bad business decisions and phantom twinges that were more than friendship.

Now, he feels like there should be a resolve. Maybe he might be able to get Mark back, the only person he's ever truly wanted.

-

So he flies to California and glances at the building that contains two unforgettable memories for him; it’s too wrapped around heartbreak, rage, and disappointment.

He steps foot inside and tries to calm his breathing. He can do this.

When he’s in a large room filled with Facebook investors and important people, he searches the place for a familiar face with prominent cheek bones and a mob of light brown curls and instead sees Chris with a stilted, polite smile and Dustin with a worried expression. Both are hovering protectively close to the figure in the middle.

He makes his way towards the three of them anyway.

“Mark,” he says.

“Eduardo,” Mark replies, lips pressed in a line.

 

He helplessly looks at Chris and Dustin. “I’m not trying to cause trouble,” he addresses them, placing his hand forward.

Chris and Dustin share a look between each other before Chris sighs and nods to Eduardo, and steers Dustin away from him and Mark.

Silence ensues while Mark stares defiantly away.

 

“Can we go somewhere more private?” he asks.

 

Mark turns and walks in a different direction. Eduardo follows him to empty office.

It is here where Eduardo slowly grabs Mark’s wrist that goes stiff at the contact. “Mark,” he says again. “Please listen to what I have to say.”

“I don’t think it’s a wise idea for us to be talking. You said everything you needed to at the depositions or is there another important matter you wish to discuss?” Mark quips out bitingly.

Eduardo bites down the mounting frustration he feels to respond, “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.”

Mark’s eyes seem to soften a few moments before he raises his brow. “Oh?”

He had forgotten that his patience was still stretched thin especially whenever he’s around Mark.

He takes a couple of breaths. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for breaking your laptop five years ago, but it felt great at the time. I think we were both dicks. You shouldn’t have cut me out behind my back. I deserved my shares and I helped create Facebook. I’m sorry for blaming you for what happened. I just realized that I’m to blame as well because I didn’t listen to your plans. Freezing the account was a childish thing to do. It might’ve been selfish to make that decision on my own. I know now that it could have seriously jeopardized the company. I didn’t need to do what I did…” Eduardo trails off. “I made myself unreliable and maybe I provoked you into diluting my shares. I don’t know.”

“Okay, Wardo. I get it. I needed to hear that.” Mark answers. He seems a little uncomfortable before he goes, “I shouldn’t have hurt you. You weren’t the right CFO for Facebook but what I did was wrong. I didn’t listen to you either.”

“We were both stubborn and stupid.”

“Yes,” Mark agrees.

 

Eduardo feels lighter than he’s felt in a long time, like an invisible burden is suddenly removed from his mind.

“Alright, then we should probably get back to the meeting,” he suggests not knowing what say next.

Mark nods.

 

They begin walking back to the conference room together.

 

At the door, Eduardo gathers his courage enough to ask, “Do you think we could get coffee after the meeting is over?”

Mark smiles, “Yeah, we should.”

Eduardo hopes.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to move LJ stuff over to Ao3. Now I can. Hope you enjoy and leave a comment if you want :)


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